


Always the Dragon

by Kalicat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Anorexia, Eventual Smut, F/M, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5810905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalicat/pseuds/Kalicat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Golden Trio return to Hogwarts, Hermione finds herself faced with a dangerous situation. Struggling to handle it alone, will she let anyone get close enough to help her? Rated E for violence and later scenes of an awesomely citrus-y nature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello everybody! This is an old story of mine that I began years ago and I've decided it deserves an ending. It will get graphic later on, but the first few chapters just hint at things that have already happened. I will update the tags as it goes along, please read the tags!!!

The corridor was only a blurry smear in the corner of her eye as Hermione flung herself down the hallway, tears streaming down her face as she tried to ignore the searing pain in her shoulder and arm. She thought she'd gotten used to the sting of bruises, but her face felt like she'd fallen face first onto concrete. Ron had been so angry this time; she hadn't even thought he might get upset that she didn't wear his necklace. Her fault, she should have known better.

Grateful for the deserted corridors, she ducked into the staircase leading to the Astronomy tower. Returning seventh year and heroine of the War she might be, but McGonagall would still tear into her if she was caught out of bed after hours. Her reputation as perfect Hermione would be shot. Running up the stairs, she tried to collect her thoughts, she had to find a way to fix this. Reaching the top, she half collapsed onto the stone floor under the mockingly cheerful stars.

Pulling her wand out with her left hand, she struggled to keep her sobs under control as she whispered "Percuros" and sighed with relief as her arm began to heal, her skin knitting together as the jagged bone sank back in and fused with the other end. She didn't know the spell for a dislocated shoulder, but she could look it up in a moment. Whispering a well-worn spell to heal her bruised face and torso, she forced herself to slow her breathing. With her broken arm and bruises healed, Ron at least couldn't get mad with her for looking like a weakling. She'd already made that mistake once, forgetting to hear a particularly nasty bruise on the back of her neck. Trying to explain it away to Harry had been hard enough, but when Ron had blown up on her that night, he'd made that bruise look like a little love tap from a kitten's paw.

Pushing her hair out of her face and leaning back, she wiped the tears from her face, hating how no matter how many she wiped away, more flowed down to take their place. Cradling her right arm, she remembered how it hadn't always been this way. Actually, when they'd first returned to school, it seemed like for the first time in years she could relax and enjoy her life. Harry and Ron had returned for their last classes to become Aurors, Ginny was in their year and training hard at Quidditch, Neville was Professor Sprout's star pupil, on the fast track to becoming the new Herbology teacher when she retired at the end of this year, and even Luna had shown interest in journalism. She and Ron had struggled at first to adjust to their new 'couple' status, but they'd been so happy…

Tilting her head back to blink dazedly at the stars, she shuddered slightly at the memory of the first night she'd found out about Ron's temper. Her professors had piled on homework that she was having trouble finishing and Ron and Harry had begged her to help then with their homework. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem, but with four half finished essays due the next morning, she'd had to refuse. At first, she'd just though Ron was just a little annoyed; he'd sulked for a few hours. It hadn't been until Harry left that he started hurling questions at her with venom in his voice she'd never heard before. Sighing, she knew it had been her fault. She'd snapped back at him, not knowing better. A quick backhand across the mouth knocked her out of her chair and into her place. She'd learned quickly that any trace of annoyance in her voice would set him off quicker than anything else. She knew he loved her, and really, he was just teaching her how to be a better person…

Choking back a fresh wave of tears, Hermione pushed the memories out of her mind. Looking back never helped, she had to concentrate on what she had to do. First things first, she had to heal her dislocated shoulder. She'd walked around with various injuries before, but there was no way she could hide this, the pain was making her nauseous even when sitting still. Pulling out her book of healing spells from her bag, she'd only flipped it open before she heard a shuffling behind her.

Ducking her head and whipping around, she was shocked to see Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall, a notebook propped against his knee, pencil frozen over the page and an alarmed look spreading across his face. His expression alone didn't surprise her, it had been his default expression during much of the last few years, but the way his eyes trailed over her injured arm and torn sleeve, fixing on the unnatural lump of her shoulder scared her. He was seeing too much, her inner voice screamed at her, he'd been there the whole time! He'd seen everything!

"Granger…?" Draco began, his normally harsh voice softened by bewilderment, "Are you okay? Did something-"

Hermione wrenched herself to her feet, ignoring the thump of her book hitting the stone floor as she turned and fled from his inquisitive gaze. He was the last person she needed to know about this. The absolute last. She didn't need him blackmailing her on top of everything else.

Draco sat stunned as he watched Hermione run off like a bat out of hell. Putting down his sketchbook, he closed his eyes tight, replaying the scene in his mind. Hermione practically falling to the ground, her arm gushing blood, the jagged bone visible cutting through her porcelain skin, her normally beautiful face so puffy and bruised as if someone had worked her over pretty good. As he'd sat there frozen with shock, she'd healed herself with an air of desperate practicality. The almost nonchalant way she'd spelled away the bruises shocked him more than anything. This hadn't been the first time this had happened to her. It'd looked like her shoulder was dislocated as well. Pushing himself to his feet, he walked over and picked up the small dog eared book she'd left behind. Flipping through it, his heart dropped into his stomach as he saw how worn the section on broken bones and bruises was. Looking in the direction she'd gone, Draco found himself worrying about the little lioness he'd always admired. The odd thing was that he'd always known she was strong willed and stubborn, sharp as a tack. To see her calmly healing herself after someone had obviously beaten her, as if it was nothing, shook him to the core. He was well aware that he didn't have a chance with her, even as a friend, but he'd known she could take care of herself. She'd never allow herself to be treated badly. But now…

Draco stood there thinking frantically. Something had to be done, Hermione was obviously in danger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter up quickly because I felt like I need to show what is going on beyond that initial moment! I can't wait to get into this story, I have it all plotlined and sketched out, so I just need time to write now!

The next morning found Hermione in the library, cheek glued to an open book in front of her. After she'd fled the tower, she'd made it halfway back to the communal common room for returning seventh years before realizing how stupid it would be to walk back in with a still-dislocated shoulder. It always sent Ron into a rage when he saw anything physically wrong with her and there was no way that he was calmed down by now. Discovering her health book was gone, she'd headed to her haven: the library. It had taken her nearly a half hour to find the book she'd needed, but what a relief when she did. Her shoulder ached only slightly now, tender to the touch, but she'd developed a high pain tolerance so it would be easy to conceal the pain. Deciding to let Ron cool off, she'd pulled out her homework she'd been putting off and settled in for the night. Helping Harry and Ron with their homework kept him happy, but it meant that she spent most of her nights awake with a book on her knee and a candle carefully positioned to not bother him. It had been worse lately because he'd recently started insisting on staying up and trying odd new things in the bedroom. When she was a few years younger, she'd run across one of her mother's romance novels and snuck it to her room for a few hours. While the plot was boring and extremely predictable, the steamy scenes of passion had left her breathless and rather flustered. Her favorite had involved a silk tie and a bedpost. Now that she'd actually experienced it, she'd found it more frightening than arousing, though Ron obviously felt differently. Her helplessness seemed to excite him all the more, to the point that she'd began biting her lip to stop from screaming. She'd asked him to ease up once, but the onslaught it had brought about assured her that it wasn't an option. But wasn't this how it was supposed to be? He was the master, shouldn't she be willing and even eager to let him do as she pleased? She supposed she was just being ridiculous. He was trying to teach her discipline, that was all.

Yawning, Hermione carefully peeled herself off of her Herbology book, gazing blearily at the essay she'd finished so early that morning with complete apathy. Fuck. She had to go to class. She had to get ready. She had to go to breakfast and keep up appearances. Appearances were everything, after all.

Taming her wayward curls with a simple spell she'd hunted down earlier that week, she fumbled in her bag, eyes still crusted shut as she searched for the emergency supply of makeup in her bag. Finding the small pouch near the bottom, she pulled it out and arranged the small pots and palettes onto the table before taking her mirror and making herself beautiful. Foundation and concealer to hide her blotchy skin Ron hated. Lip gloss she knew she'd have to refresh within the hour. Eye shadow and powder to hide the dark circled under her eyes. After only ten minutes, Hermione felt slightly more presentable, but something still nagged at her. Then she realized: Ron's necklace! Digging around again, she came up a minute later with the slim silver chain with the otter pendant. Unclasping it and winding it around her neck, she hoped Ron would be happy that she wore it. Maybe if she did everything right today, he'd be pleased with her. Surveying herself with a critical eye, Hermione brushed a stray piece of hair from her face. She was acceptable, finally.

"Hermione?"

Hermione almost leapt out of her skin, dropping the makeup she'd begun putting back in her bag. Turning to find Harry, she relaxed and gave him a small smile.

"You really shouldn't sneak up on people. I thought that after that episode with Ginny you'd stop," she teased lightly, bending down to pick up her bag, carefully picking up the spilled contents.

Harry smiled ruefully, bending down to help, "I keep forgetting. Ginny keeps telling me I'll end up with boogies all over my face again if I come up behind her again."

Straightening up and throwing her bag over her shoulder, Hermione laughed, "By all means then, please continue. That was one of the most entertaining weeks I've had in a long time!"

Grimacing, Harry muttered, "Maybe it was fun for you. But anyhow, what are you doing here so early? The only reason I'm even awake is because I forgot my homework for Slughorn in here."

"I was up a bit late finishing the essay for Sprout," Hermione half lied with an ease she supposed should have disturbed her, "I thought I saw a bag over in the Charm's section, is that yours?"

Harry nodded eagerly and hurried a few aisles over, scanning the tables quickly before picking up a black bag triumphantly. Walking back over, he snapped his fingers and pointed at her cheerfully, "By the way, before I completely forget, the book release is at Flourish and Blotts this Saturday. We're all planning on going, if you'd care to join."

Hermione kept her smile in place with an effort. It hadn't even been a week after the Battle of Hogwarts before a young writer had sent them all an owl. Harry had been embarrassed during the first few interviews, but they'd all come to enjoy chatting with Emily, an enthusiastic bundle of energy and ink splatters. She'd asked a lot of tough questions and eyed Ron too much for Hermione's liking, but they'd all agreed that a book was the best way to answer a lot of the rumors floating around. The royalty checks to come didn't hurt either. After months of interviews, editing and prereading snippets, their advance copies had come in the mail only last week. She hadn't had time to read any of it yet, she was far too busy, but it had been exhilarating to see her name on the cover of a book. It really was a shame she hadn't even opened it yet. Perhaps she could after dinner if there was time. Wasn't it on the nightstand…? But she would have to give up an entire Saturday to go to the book release. Saturdays were her catch up days; Harry and Ron usually had practice all afternoon and it was one of the few times she could do whatever she liked. She usually spent it doing homework, but there was always the potential for reading or even spending some time napping with Crookshanks. There really wasn't any way around it though; she had to be there.

"Of course!" Hermione chirped, pushing away her disappointment and scooping the remaining make up into her bag, "I wouldn't miss it!"

"Awesome," Harry replied, looking relieved, "Ginny is insisting that I wear my dress robes. I'll need all the moral support I can get. We haven't seen Emily in ages either, it'll be good to see her again."

Hermione nodded absently, her mind already racing to the day ahead. Herbology and Arithmancy, with Transfiguration after lunch. She'd managed to pass out before finishing her essay on inter-species transfiguration; she'd have to find time to do that before she could worry about Saturday. Packing up her books, she half listened to Harry ramble on about how exciting the book release was going to be, she didn't hear Ron sneaking up behind her until he placed a cool hand over her eyes.

"Guess who, love," he cooed into her ear, his other hand at her waist, and Hermione ignored the way her muscles stiffened and her instinct to draw away from him, it only angered him.

Forcing herself to relax and lean back into him the way he liked, she laughed and replied airily, "Could it be Ron, perhaps?" and giggled when he wrapped him arms around her, squeezing her tightly.

"I figured you'd be here when I didn't see you in the common room this morning," Ron said quietly and Hermione was sure no one else would notice the way his eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced around.

"I needed a book and fell asleep, Harry found me when he came looking for his bag," Hermione explained hurriedly, trying to keep her voice casual. She hadn't done anything wrong; she reminded herself, he's just worried is all.

"Hermione's always in the library, I'm surprised Madame Prince hasn't given her her own section or something," Harry teased, tossing his bag over his shoulder, "Breakfast anyone? I'm famished."

"'Course," Ron replied instantly, his face lighting up at the thought of delicious pancakes with syrup.

Her stomach churned ominously at the thought of food and Hermione ducked her head to hide the look of revulsion she couldn't suppress. "Actually, I think I'll pass, I want to talk to Professor Sprout about our essay before class," she replied, not looking up from her bag as she pretended to rummage for something, "I'm not sure out this one book, some of the sources were really sketchy, but it's a recommended book, so…" She gave an unconcerned shrug, glad she had an excuse to avoid the Great Hall. She needed to lose so much weight; Ron kept poking her stomach and thighs and sneering, commenting on her blubber. He'd begun leaving bruises already, she needed to do something before he got angry about it. Besides, she looked absolutely disgusting, a flabby blob of skin.

"Sure, Hermione, we'll bring you some toast or something, alright?" Ron replied, already turning towards the door, a ravenous look in his eyes.

"That'd be great guys, thanks!" Hermione said to their retreating backs, even as she began thinking up excuses for refusing anything they brought her. She couldn't say she'd already eaten this time; maybe she could put it down during class and 'forget' it?

Dragging herself out of the chair, she made her way slowly outside, hating how tired she was. She hadn't eaten in two days, long enough that her stomach had stopped growling and settled into an achy silence, but the lack of food had sapped her energy. She figured she was burning her fat reserves now, and this was a good thing. With every second she held off stuffing her face, she was shrinking, purifying herself from all the fat and disgusting flab she carried. And really, she wasn't that tired, she'd slept badly anyways, it was probably just from that. Settling down on the bench outside greenhouse fifteen, she pulled out the Transfiguration essay and set to it with a vengeance. She would get it done; it would just take a bit more effort and speed than normal. A half hour later found her still scribbling furiously as Professor Sprout began class. Luckily it was mostly lecture, so Hermione kept to herself and finished the essay five minutes before the end of class. Looking up, she found an apple on top of her bag, probably courtesy of Harry, who was smiling understandingly at her. She grinned back and tuned in to Professor Sprout in time to hear her assign a two-foot long essay on the flowering of the venomous apple trees. Packing up, she'd nearly made it out the door when she heard Sprout calling her back.

"Yes, Professor?" she asked, turning back, already dreading the tongue-lashing she was sure was coming.

"Miss Granger, I just skimmed over your essay, and I can already tell it's exceptional. I think I'm correct in saying your ambition is to be a Healer?" Sprout asked, looking up from her rather muddy makeshift desk.

"Yes ma'am," Hermione replied quietly, she'd only recently decided this, how on earth did Sprout know? She'd been meaning to mention it, she just hadn't got around to it.

"I thought so, you usually include the medicinal uses of the plants, even when I don't ask for them," Professor Sprout murmured before straightening, "With that in mind, I would like to assign you additional projects in order to cover pertinent information you'll need in that profession. I know you're probably working hard as it is, but this would really help you."

Hermione stood there, her smile feeling pasted on. This was a wonderful opportunity, but she was barely sleeping as it was! Was it even possible, or even worth it, to take on additional assignments? But looking down at the older woman's expression, she knew she would have to find a way. Declining this offer would tarnish her reputation with the teachers, who were notoriously fast about passing news around. Ron wouldn't stand for it if he heard. And she could do it. Of course she would. She was Hermione Granger, after all.

"That would be wonderful, Professor, thank you so much!" she gushed happily, and stood in a daze as Sprout assigned her five more essays, all due in two weeks. Walking to the library, she decided she really didn't need sleep after all. There were charms and potions to keep a person awake she could just use them. Settling into her favorite table in the Arithmancy area of the library, she began her independent study. Professor Vector had asked her if she'd prefer an independent study instead of a class setting this year, as she blew through her assignments and became bored easily in class and in the beginning it had seemed like an excellent idea, but now she just felt overwhelmed. She'd actually begun to miss daydreaming in his class. Sighing, she opened her book and gathered fresh parchment and ink, resigning herself. Might as well get used to it, she had six essays to do after this.

From across the library, Draco watched her carefully. In the light of day with make up and her hair done, Granger looked much better than she had the night before. It looked like she'd healed her shoulder, for one. The makeup also hid the dark circles under her eyes he knew were there. Her robes were unwrinkled and immaculate. Looking at her now, it would be easy to convince himself he'd imagined the events of the night before, dismiss it as an insane dream of a tired imagination. But there was something not quite right about the toffee haired Gryffindor princess; perhaps it was the slope of her injured shoulder, or the way she bent almost nervously over her parchment. Maybe it was the way she kept smoothing her hair every few minutes, then twining a curl around her finger. Draco tilted his head as he pondered his move. He couldn't stand by, knowing that someone was hurting her. Old enemy or not, she was still a person, let alone his long time crush; he couldn't handle the fact that someone had reduced her to this bundle of twitching nervous energy. She'd deny it, more than likely. Perhaps from fear, perhaps from pride, but he had no doubt that she wouldn't want to open up to anyone, least of all him. How could he help her then?

Giving up for the moment, he focused on what he had to do first. Oddly enough, it had been Madame Prince who'd given him the perfect excuse to talk to her. Standing up and weaving his way through the towering bookshelves, he watched as she looked up at his approach, the instant wariness springing to her eyes and stiffening her shoulders.

"Granger," he greeted her, standing behind the chair across from her, "Do you mind if I…?"

"Go ahead," she replied brusquely, pulling her book closer towards her. Noticing this, Draco didn't pull himself close to the table. She was probably uncomfortable having anyone near her as it was, and with their history he was probably the last person she wanted to be around at the moment.

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione looked up, halfway angry and halfway frightened. She didn't know how much Malfoy had seen the night before or how much he'd worked out, but she didn't want to deal with it. Just go away already, she thought angrily.

Out loud, she said, "Do you need something?"

Ignoring the harsh edge in her voice, Draco answered calmly, "Madame Prince said that you'd checked out "Irish Medicinal Herbs". I was hoping to put in a closing paragraph on the subject in my Herbology essay. If it isn't too much trouble, I was hoping I could borrow it for a few minutes?"

Silently, Hermione drew the book from her bag and passed it over to Draco, refusing to look at him. Draco pulled out a few sheets of parchment and wrote silently, glancing at the sullen woman every few minutes. Hermione stared down at her parchment resolutely, using far more pressure than was necessary and nearly stabbing through as she dotted the 'I's. What exactly was Malfoy up to? What kind of sick mind game was this? Had he come to gloat? Not that he really seemed like he was here to gloat, sitting over there scratching out a paragraph or two, but what other reason was there? There'd be an unspoken truce between the Trio and Malfoy since the end of the War, and they generally just didn't bother with each other. Not that the rest of the school shared this truce; Malfoy was constantly harassed. So what other reason could he have? Perhaps revenge for past wrongs?

Finally, she spoke, "If you're here to taunt me or whatever, get it over with and leave."

Draco looked up expectantly, "I'm not here for that. I needed the book and I wanted to see that you were okay."

"Of course I'm okay," Hermione growled, keeping her voice low, "I just tripped down some steps, what kind of witch would I be if-"

"'Mione?"

Hermione whipped around so quickly that Draco got hair whipped across his face. Leaning back ruefully, he looked over to see Hermione's lover boy, Weasel breath, staring at them. He nodded politely and bent back over the borrowed book, writing quickly. He actually did need the paragraph for his essay.

"Hey Ron," Hermione smiled up at him, trying to hide her already frayed nerves. This was quite possibly the worst thing to happen. When he came over and put a hand on her shoulder as he faced Malfoy, she couldn't help but flinch, seeing the roiling anger beginning to show in his eyes. Draco caught this little movement out of the corner of his eye and understood in a moment exactly who was to blame for last night's incident. Gritting his teeth, he clutched his quill as tightly as he dared, knowing that any indication of emotion on his part would only hurt Hermione in the short term.

"Help you with anything, Malfoy?" Ron spat, not bothering to hide the disdain and disgust in his voice.

"No thanks," Draco replied easily, countering with unconcerned indifference, "Just needed to borrow a book for the essay. I have Sprout this afternoon."

Watching Ron's eyes dart between herself and Malfoy, Hermione's anger at Malfoy doubled even as her fear heightened. That look meant it would another long night and painful morning.

"Are you almost done? I really need to get to lunch," she asked her fear only transparently veiled by false impatience.

"Just now, actually. Thank you for letting me borrow it," Draco replied politely, handing it over as he assessed whether it was worth killing the Weasel now or later. He had no proof, and yet all the proof he needed had been given the moment she'd flinched away from the ginger haired menace's touch. But if he so much as touched Ron, he'd complain to McGonagall. One of the Golden Trio against the Slytherin Scumbag? He'd get expelled for sure. And with him gone, the only outlet for Ron's anger would be Hermione. He needed to stay quiet for now, for her safety. He'd be of no use to her if he were expelled. At least if he was here he could try and prevent it, if not help her escape him.

"You're welcome," Hermione said icily, turning and walking towards the door, Ron practically dragging her away. Draco ducked his head, feeling his helplessness in every inch of his soul as he heard the Weasel start hissing at Hermione even before they'd left the library. He didn't know what to do, how to begin helping Hermione or even offer his help. But watching her slightly hunched figure walk away under the vile man's arm, Draco resolved that no matter what he had to do, no matter how hard it was, he would find a way to protect Hermione from the man she loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment! It helps keep me motivated and I love hearing your thoughts!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again! Bit of Ron's POV in this chapter, enjoy!

Ron struggled to keep his voice low as he whispered to Hermione, "What the bloody hell was that?"

"Nothing," she replied, keeping her heavily made up whore-eyes on the floor as he dragged her down the hallway, making sure she kept close to him so that the gossipy gits wouldn't go telling the headmistress he was mistreating her. On the contrary, how would she learn if he didn't correct her? He'd just learned that she listened a lot better when he was right up close.

"That foul scum had your book and was sitting across from you in a secluded area, that is not nothing," he spat, pulling her over to the edge of the corridor, "You know you belong to me, Hermione, what the hell were you doing hanging around that filth? Trying to get a little on the side?"

"No! Of course not!" Hermione whispered, her eyes wide as she trembled in his grasp, "I didn't know how to get rid of him without Madame Prince seeing, but I was trying."

Grabbing her shoulders, he shifted so that he blocked her into the corner of the little alcove, out of sight, tightening his grip he leaned in close, his lips brushing hers as he spoke in a voice he usually reserved for their room, "I don't care. If I see you whoring around with that filthy piece of shit ever again, I will have to punish you. You are my girlfriend, and I won't let the school talk about how I can't keep my girlfriend in line. Understand?"

The bitch nodded timidly, and he saw tears drip down her face. Stupid fucking bitch was crying like an infant who'd shit in their diaper. Always so fucking scared, why wouldn't she just fucking behave? Then he wouldn't have to do this all the damn time. Disgusted, he released her and turned away, giving her a few seconds to wipe away the disgraceful tears and rejoin him. Hearing her footsteps beside him, he reached out an arm and drew her close, leaning down to kiss her head.

"I love you 'Mione," Ron murmured into her hair, "You know that, right? I'm just trying to help you."

"I know," Hermione whispered back, "I love you too."

Draco spent the majority of lunch cursing Ron Weasley into the foulest reaches of hell, preferably in the company of several serial killers with vivid imaginations and a thirst to practice. He'd stayed in the library for a few minutes after he'd dragged Hermione off, trying not to anger him any more than he already had, even though everything in him was screaming to go after her, to protect her. There wasn't much Ron could do to her in public, but what if he'd taken her to their common room? By the time he dared to leave the library and head to the Great Hall, Draco's stomach was churning uneasily, filled with worry for Hermione. Spotting her, Harry, and the git eating lunch at the far end of Gryffindor table was no small relief. She was smiling and laughing at something Ginny had said, looking perfectly safe and happy. Taking a seat at his own table, Draco breathed a sigh of relief, but the ball in his stomach wouldn't go away. She hadn't been hurt this time, but what if she had been?

All returning seventh years shared one common room with bedrooms upstairs, so he'd seen Weasley and Granger together from time to time, but he'd never paid much attention. Yes, she was brilliant, and clever, and strong, and beautiful, but she was with someone else. He'd been so busy trying to get over his childish crush on her that he'd managed to ignore how miserable she was. It was obvious if anyone bothered to look; she had dark rings under her eyes, she hunched over and kept her arms close to her body, and kept her usually inquisitive eyes on a book or the floor. So incredibly obvious, and he'd walked past her without a second thought. How many times, he wondered, had she been in pain, or scared, or even mentally begging someone to help her? It was already spring semester, who knew how long she'd endured Ron's wrath?

The fact that she hadn't left him or told anyone worried Draco, he couldn't stop picturing the terror and desperation in her eyes when he'd asked if she was okay, even as she'd told him that it was an accident. She needed help, but how could he help her? McGonagall would laugh in his face if he tried to report Ron. He couldn't anger Ron by befriending her, the monster would only hurt her again, but he couldn't protect her from a distance. For that matter, he didn't even know if she'd allow him to help her. From what had happened in the library, he didn't think so. At least not now. He couldn't blame her though; she'd been terrified of what Ron would do, and with good reason. She probably didn't trust anyone anymore. Draco left the Great Hall feeling more discouraged than ever.

Hermione watched him leave out of the corner of her eye, making sure that Ron was immersed in his debate about brooms with Harry. Malfoy's bright hair was easy to spot, and she'd noticed him looking at her several times. He was worried about her that much was easy to see, but she was fine. She kept messing up, but that was her fault. She just needed to be better, work harder, and everything would be fine. Pushing around her plateful of calorie-laden vegetables, she glared at her plate. He had no right to poke his nose in her business! Her relationship with Ron was rocky, sure, but it was her relationship, not his. If he kept up trying to 'help' her, Ron would only get angrier. The last thing she needed was to make him angry again. But it was so easy these days. All she had to do was say one thing, or forget something and he blew up. But she'd handle it. She just had to get better. She was Perfect Hermione after all; of course she could handle it.

But as she rose from the table to go to Transfiguration, she remembered the genuine concern she'd seen on his face and couldn't help but think that he was trying to help, in his own stupid way. In a way, it was kind of… sweet.

The afternoon passed in a whirl of incantations and papers. McGonagall had been pleased with her essay and assigned another, much to everyone's dismay, if not surprise. That meant she had seven essays. After class, Hermione raided the library and returned to the seventh years' common room, working furiously and thanking her lucky stars that the guys had Quidditch practice. She'd managed to outline three of her essays by dinnertime. She was slightly light headed as she walked upstairs after carefully avoiding her food. She'd only put carrots, broccoli and fruit salad on her plate, but she'd learned that by cutting up her food and rearranging the pieces, it looked like she'd eaten. No one seemed to have caught on to her charade at meals, and she was sure that she'd start losing some of this disgusting blubber from her thighs soon.

By the time Harry and Ron pulled out their homework to begin, Hermione was struggling to stay on her feet. She was exhausted from the recent late nights, and her empty stomach had started churning again. Above anything, all she wanted was to fall into bed and sleep, but she knew that she couldn't; Ron had shown her early on how important it was to help them with their homework. It was midnight before they called it a night and went to bed, but Hermione knew her day wasn't over. She only had to wait a few minutes before Ron snuck into her bedroom and demanded one more thing from her.

After he was satisfied, she laid next to him, listening as his breathing grew long and deep. Staring out her small window at the icy stars, she was glad it had been a good day. Malfoy business aside, Ron hadn't beaten her and bite marks were easy to heal, even if they did sting something awful. Waiting a few more minutes, she slipped out of bed and onto the floor, wincing at the sharp pains between her legs. He was always a little rough with her. Gathering her papers, she began outlining her fourth essay as Ron snored in the bed above her.

Up on the Astronomy tower, Draco shivered. It was unusually cold out tonight, but he found that it didn't bother him as much as it should. Twirling a pencil between his fingertips, he stared at the stairway, filled with a sense of unease. What was happening to her right now? Was she hurt? He knew she probably wouldn't come back here if she were; Hermione was far too smart for that. Sighing, Draco doodled aimlessly on the edge of his sketchbook, trying for the millionth time that day, to think of how he could help her without angering Ron. It all seemed pointless; any action that would protect Hermione would backfire because of Ron's anger and Draco's reputation. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to come back, any education he got came with a hefty price tag. He was constantly harassed and with his 'friends' locked up or dead, he'd been spending a lot of quality time alone. He only had three months left, but those months seemed like an eternity.

Turning his attention to his sketchbook, he started drawing. A few simple lines and he had the outline of the lake and trees. Shading in the water and texturing the trees took only a few minutes, leaving him unsatisfied. Draco growled and threw the book, watching indifferently as it landed on the stone floor a few feet in front of him. Drawing, his only release wasn't helping. He still couldn't stop thinking of her, of her pain, of how that fucking dickwad could bear to hurt someone so selfless. How she managed to smile after what Ron had done to her, how she managed not to cower and hide from the world baffled him. Such strength was rare, and it spoke of an incredible woman that Draco was only able to glimpse. There was a blistering hole in his heart for her, one that ached to see her hurting, but killed him to not know how to help.

Rising slowly, Draco walked over and picked up the book, dusting it off carefully. Returning to his spot against the wall, he opened the sketchbook to a blank page and began to draw. How easily he could recall those tawny eyes full of fire, that curling hair that framed her face, accenting her rosebud lips. He sketched quickly, the exact image he needed coming easily to mind as her image sprang to life beneath his fingers. It was an hour before he was done, long for him, and he swiped back a stray lock of hair impatiently, smearing graphite across his forehead. On the page, Hermione was leaning back against a stone wall, her eyes barely open as she gazed upward, her face alight with curiosity and wonder. Gazing at the rough drawing, Draco wished more than anything that he could make her that happy, that he could save her from what she was going through. And in that moment, he realized what he had to do.

It was nearly nine o'clock when Hermione woke the next morning, alone on her bedroom floor. Scrambling to get around and scrub spilled ink she'd slept in off of her cheek, she managed to get around and out the door, sliding into the Potions classroom just as Professor Slughorn greeted the class.

"Ah, Miss Granger! Been burning the midnight oil?" Slughorn asked amicably as she blushed, looking himself like he'd stayed up late imbibing a few too many bottles of questionable contents, "Please, take a seat next to Mr. Malfoy, I have an usual assignment for you both."

Hermione looked over, and sure enough, Malfoy was the only one with an empty seat at his table. Bewildered, she looked over at her usual spot with Harry and Ron, only to see no empty spaces, only gaping mouths and in Ron's case, a furrowed brow. With no other choice, she walked over and slipped into the chair beside Malfoy, pointedly ignoring him as he cleared away a few of his books on her side of the table. Turning her attention to what Slughorn was saying, she found herself instantly bored. Slughorn was having them do a variation of the Polyjuice potion, one that allowed for longer transformations. She'd mastered this potion during their time hiding from Voldemort.

Turning her book to the correct page as Slughorn wrapped up the instructions, Hermione was confused when he strolled over and said, "No need for your book today Ms. Granger. As you and Mr. Malfoy are my most advanced pupils, I have a more challenging assignment in mind for you. Ms. Granger, am I correct in assuming that you are proficient in Arithmancy?"

"Yes sir," Hermione replied, feeling more than a bit confused at the direction the conversation was going. What on earth did Arithmancy have to do with potion making?

"Good good, then there should be no problems," Slughorn murmured, settling onto a stool by his desk, "Mr. Malfoy was asking if there was a potion I knew of that could help the user calculate the chances of an event happening in the future. I haven't heard of such a potion, but it seems an interesting challenge worthy of both of your talents. It will give you both experience in inventing potions and honestly I'm quite interested to see if it can be done." Slughorn beamed at the two students; unaware of the silent berating Hermione was giving him, or the cautious praise Draco was sending. "You'll both have the rest of the year to work on this, though it might take extra time outside of class. Keep me informed, of course!"

Hermione watched, dumbfounded, as the teacher waddled off. A large project required time outside of class would've been bad enough, but with Malfoy? The one person Ron had warned her to never speak to again? Her day had just gone to hell. There was no way she'd have another quiet evening until this project was over.

Draco cleared his throat, elated that his plan had worked. He'd known there was no such potion, of course, but he'd overheard Slughorn muttering about lesson plans weeks ago and this was the perfect was to circumvent Ron. He couldn't go against Slughorn, and Draco would be in a better position to help Hermione. Then why did it seem like he'd forgotten something important…?

Hermione swung around to face him, and her glare pierced through his optimism, "We are not spending any time out of class doing this, I have enough on my plate as it is, so you'd better not screw around and expect me to do all the work."

Oh, right. She hated him.

"Relax, Granger," Draco said, automatically reverting to his aloof self, "I've already done some research, and believe it or not, I think it would be useful to have a potion like this around."

Hermione bristled at his use of her last name, "I suppose it would be useful. You'd know exactly which girl you have the best chance of bedding all the time. And don't call me Granger."

"I don't need help getting witches into my bed," Draco replied easily, bending over one of the pages he'd already bookmarked.

"Oh, you finally got the hang of the stunning spell! Well done!" Hermione answered with a syrupy sweet voice as Draco's head snapped up. He actually looked shocked; handling him was going to be easy.

Draco forced himself not to be drawn into an antagonistic banter, returning his gaze to the book. Arguing wouldn't help anyone, but he couldn't exactly confront her about her situation. She'd only deny it now. He had to go slow with her, work up to offering his help.

Trying to diffuse the hostility that was radiating from her, Draco asked in what he hoped was a polite, gentle tone, "Alright, what should I call you then, if you don't like Granger?"

Busy dwelling on how furious she was at the situation he'd put her in, and refusing to look at Harry and Ron for fear of what she might find, Hermione found herself caught off guard at Malfoy's question, "What?" she asked, looking up from her book.

"What would you like me to call you?" Draco replied, tilting his head slightly.

Hermione hesitated, more bewildered at how polite he was being than at the question itself. What the hell was he up to? He seemed sincere enough, like he genuinely didn't want to offend her. What fresh hell was this? Could Draco Malfoy actually be… nice? Glancing over at Ron's furious glare in their direction, she quickly put that thought out of her head. No, he was her enemy; it was dangerous to think of him in any other way.

"Don't bother calling me anything. We won't be around each other enough to warrant that, I assure you," Hermione replied stiffly, turning a page with an audible snap of the paper.

Draco looked down at his book, not caring what words he pretended to read. She was definitely guarded, as he'd thought she'd be. With all that she'd been through, he'd expected it. But how to get her to let her walls down?

"I suppose I could always call you 'Bookworm'" he began, keeping his voice light and the conversation superficial, "Or perhaps, 'Lives in Library', but where is the originality in that?"

"Where indeed, you seem to be borrowing from eight year olds," Hermione scoffed, inwardly surprised that he didn't seem to take offense at her hostility. Perhaps he felt sorry for her after what he'd seen? Well, she didn't need the pity of a Death Eater, former or not. She had things handled, thank you very much.

"'Lioness' is also far too predictable," Draco mused, steadfastly ignoring her annoyance, "A middle name, perhaps? I think I remember reading something, what was it… Jean, wasn't it? Would you prefer that?"

Hermione fumed. Not only was she being forced to endure the company of this man who would most likely earn her a few more bruises, he knew her middle name?

"Don't ever call me that." She said with a voice like ice, looking him dead in the eye.

Surprised by her sudden vehemence, Draco backpedaled quickly, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you don't like it. I'll just call you Partner, okay?"

Hermione considered briefly before nodding, deciding it was harmless. Better that than 'Lives in Library'. Ron couldn't get mad at 'Partner', there was no hint of familiarity in it, and it wasn't demeaning like 'Granger'. It didn't matter anyway; he wouldn't have the chance to use it for very long at all.

They sat in silence for most of the period, speaking only when one found something helpful, which Draco jotted down on a roll of parchment. Hermione was pleased that Ron had stopped glaring after awhile, seeing that she wasn't speaking to Malfoy. Hopefully he had calmed down. She certainly wasn't going to encourage Malfoy in his attempts to annoy her. That was one sure way to rile Ron up, and she'd so enjoyed yesterday's calm. No, she couldn't allow Malfoy to mess things up. Her stomach snarled loudly, and Draco turned towards her slightly, wary of making his attention too noticeable; Hermione wasn't the only one who'd noticed Ron's hostility.

"Did you miss breakfast?" He asked, taking care to keep his voice low, not taking his eyes off his book.

"I woke up late," Hermione replied stiffly, turning her seat farther away from his, embarrassed that he'd heard her. She'd caved late last night; eating the apple Harry had given her, now she had to begin anew. Her stomach burned, clamoring for more sustenance it didn't need. Even as she tried to quiet its protests, she struggled to keep her head up. She was so tired.

"Here."

Draco casually pushed a small plastic bag across the table under the pretext of rearranging his books. Frowning, Hermione watched and waited a few minutes before she pulled the bag under the table and opened it, finding sandwiches inside. Peanut butter and jelly, her nose informed her as her stomach growled again. Resisting the impulse to tear into the starchy, sugary, carb laden treats; she closed the bag with an irritated snort.

"Do you think I'm stupid? What poison did you put in them? Disabling Draught in the jelly perhaps?" Hermione whispered, slipping the bag back onto the table.

"I'll take a bite out of each one if I need to prove they're safe," Draco replied, struggling to keep his voice low and calm. His worry only served to frustrate him more; if she weren't eating, it would explain her lethargy and paleness. But then again, it was probably just stress. No need for him to overreact.

Hermione risked a glance over at Malfoy, frowning as she tried to understand what his angle was here. First he'd seen her bruised and bloody with a bone sticking out of her arm, then he'd bugged her in the library to 'see if she was okay', now he was trying to get her to eat sandwiches?

"What the hell do you want?" she asked, her voice trembling with frustration and fear, "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

Draco blinked in surprise, hearing the naked terror in her voice. Had he pushed her too far? He'd been chastising himself for not trying hard enough, but he hadn't thought about how much she could handle. She would be the one to pay if he messed this up, he reminded himself sternly, he could never forget that.

Turning only his head so that he could look her straight in the eyes, "I saw that you were hurt the other night in the tower and I want to make sure that you're okay." Seeing her head begin to shake as she opened her mouth to repeat her practiced lies, he cut her off, "I know it wasn't an accident, any idiot could see that. Despite what you think, I don't hate you or wish you harm, I just want to help you in any way I can."

"Who says I need your help?" Hermione snarled, her eyes blazing with challenge even as her hands shook in her lap.

"Everyone needs help sometimes," Draco replied softly, desperately hoping his soft words would convey his desire, his need, to aid her, "Especially when the trouble comes from one close to us."

The scraping of chairs as the class was dismissed masked her gasp, and Hermione stared thoughtlessly at Malfoy amid the chaos as he gave her a gentle smile before turning to gather up the small library he'd brought. Yanking herself back into the present, she gathered up her things as Ron approached.

Watching as closely as he dared, Draco saw Ron help Hermione out of her chair and lead her to the door of the classroom, and only the tightness around the red haired boy's mouth gave away his anger. As they walked out, Draco sighed in frustration, irritated by his inability to rush out and carry her away from that menace. Glancing over at what had been her side of the table, he started, staring with a growing glimmer of hope at the empty spot where the sandwiches had sat. Hermione had taken them with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review guys!!!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Fair warning, this chapter is darker than the others.

Hermione kept her gaze focused forward, not seeing anything but colored blurs pass her as Ron steered her up the stairs and toward their common room. Her entire being was focused on his hand digging painfully into her upper arm. She could practically feel his anger radiating from him, making his palm seem to burn excruciatingly hot, even through her robe sleeve. It took everything in her to keep her polite smile pasted on and not think about what was coming.

Reaching the entrance, Ron ducked behind the tapestry, not bothering to hide his snarl of rage as he threw her down onto the floor of the common room. Narrowly missing striking her head on a low table, Hermione's terror increased. He'd never dared to discipline her here. He'd always been careful to wait until they were alone in one of their rooms, hidden away behind carefully laid spells of concealment. That he'd abandoned this disciplined approached scared her more than she cared to think about; even if it was lunchtime and the few eighth years were surely all in the Great Hall by now, it was incredibly careless of him, and if there was one thing Ron hated, it was carelessness.

She managed to pull herself into a sitting position and lift her head just in time to see his fist before it struck the side of her face, and she knew from experience she wasn't imagining the muffled crack that echoed in her head. Before she had time to even register that her cheekbone was broken, Ron hit her back, just below her shoulder blade and she fell onto the carpet, her nails scrabbling for purchase on the short nap, her only thought to crawl away, to hide, to curl up someplace safe. However, Ron was relentless in his assault, the blows coming so quickly it became difficult to distinguish one from the next. Finally giving up on hiding, Hermione curled in on herself, trying desperately to make herself smaller. In between punches, she faintly realized he was speaking.

"Filthy fucking whore!"

"Planning on blowing that blonde weasel!"

"How the fuck do you think that feels, watching your bitch out whoring in front of the whole school!"

"How do you think that makes me look?!"

After what seemed like an eternity, she realized the punches had stopped. Not daring to move, Hermione breathed in short gasps, trying to ignore the sharp stab every breath brought. Maybe he was done. Please, let him be done. She'd behave. She'd do better. She'd hex Malfoy into the next century if she needed to. Just let it be over.

He grabbed her by her hair, yanking her halfway off the floor in one smooth motion and the strangled cry that was pulled from her cut through the haze of anger she'd put him in and brought a cruel smile of satisfaction to his lips. Strung up with her eyes wild and blood stained hair sticking to her broken face, she was a vision, almost the epitome of a punished whore. Almost.

Leaning in, he whispered harshly, mere centimeters from her face, "So he just wanted to borrow a book? Looks like a lot more than that."

"No!" she sputtered, and he relished the fact that she was speaking through beautifully bloodied teeth, "Slughorn decided to punish me for something by putting me with that creep! I had no idea-"

"SHUT UP!" he screamed, "I DON'T FUCKING CARE! YOU ARE MINE! AND YOU WILL REMEMBER THAT!"

With another sharp yank of her hair, Ron forcefully dragged her down the short hall towards her room. Recognizing what he intended, Hermione struggled to stay semi upright, trying to support herself weakly as she was slid along the rough carpeting, fumbling and struggling to see as her eye slowly puffed up. Maybe it was better that way, she thought disjointedly, feeling her consciousness begin to slip away for a moment. She never liked what he did to her in her room anyways. Without knowing ahead, perhaps she could just ignore whatever happened.

She was brought sharply back to reality as Ron threw her down again and her shoulder smacked against the metal bedpost and she moaned once, forgetting to muffle it as she heard the snap of leather straps behind her, making her flinch. 'At least it isn't the chains' she thought blearily as she was lifted bodily and laid facedown onto the mattress, her legs hanging off the edge. As he tied her limp limbs too tight into a position she knew would leave her joints sore for days, she briefly thought of Malfoy's soft smile as he'd teased her. He had no idea how much pain he'd cost her just by that innocent action. If he'd just kept his nose out of her business, she could've had one more calm day. But she'd managed to fuck that up as well. She couldn't even make one pathetic weasel leave her alone. She deserved this

The rustling of fabric and sudden breeze behind her almost felt like they were happening to someone else. Almost. If she could just go somewhere else, focus on anything else, she could get through what was coming. She'd managed it once before. But she'd never been disciplined before he'd tied her. Not this badly. A small voice in the back of her mind whispered that a lot of things were different now. When he snapped his hips against hers, she screamed, only to find she was unable to make a sound. He'd never pushed into her there before, and the pain was more than she'd ever imagined, leaving her gasping for breath and writhing beneath him, headless to the damage she did to her other injuries. This only seemed to excite him further as he set a ruthless pace. He didn't speak, he never did at this point, the only noise in the room a furious squeaking and the repeated slap of flesh meeting.

He never lasted long, thank Merlin for that, coming inside her with a growl she could only describe as possessive. She felt him withdraw, and couldn't bring herself to care about anything for a moment. Numbness finally washed over her, too little too late. She barely noticed when he untied her and retrieved her bag from the common room, tossing it onto her dresser casually before coming over to rub her bruised back and whisper softly in her ear. It didn't matter what he said. She'd made it through; she only had to lay here now. Eventually he left, thinking she'd fallen asleep no doubt. Turning her head to stare emptily at the door, she saw the shine of plastic in the light creeping under the door. It was the bag of sandwiches Malfoy had given her. 'I just want to help you in any way I can'. The soft words echoed in her head, unbidden. It was only then that she let herself cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, I'm still debating how graphic to make this story, but I think maybe a shade or two darker for some later chapters will be necessary to do the characters and circumstances justice. Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thoughts? Comments are greatly appreciated!!!!


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